When the Hour Strikes
by KLMeri
Summary: The First Officer becomes a target for an unidentified assailant. - COMPLETE
1. Part 1

**Title**: When the Hour Strikes

**Author**: klmeri

**Characters:** Kirk, Spock, McCoy (pre-K/S/M)

**Disclaimer**: Star Trek is not my property, only my plaything.

**Summary**: The First Officer becomes a target for an unidentified assailant.

* * *

Spock is Tranquility itself. He sits, legs folded and hands clasped lightly in the traditional _Loshirak_ position. The air is stiff with dry heat, which comforts his senses and allows his mind to sharpen its focus. There is a temporal calm filtering along his nerves, to fingertips and back.

_Seven minutes thirty-four point three seconds_, he thinks inwardly, of the time spent in meditation upon the red sands of the Vulcan desert Go'an. He does not recall his arrival and feels a vague sense of some missing quantity. No conclusions without data… _two _missing quantities, he decides.

His hands remain still as a shadow falls across his closed eyes, muting the glare of the hot light.

"I wish to join you, my son." The voice has no inflection from years of long-held practice and steel reserve.

_You may_, he replies.

"Are you at peace?" This (idle) question from his father puzzles Spock.

He gives only the truth in return. _I find peace here._

Silence meets this answer, so Spock must open his eyes to assess his father's response. When his head turns left, in the direction of the voice, he meets only the strong line of a proud shoulder. The rest of his father is shrouded in the bright haze of the sun.

_Father_, he asks, _why have you come?_

There is a slow tilt of the head; Spock sees the outline of his father's jaw. "Let me help you, Spock."

_I do not understand. I do not require assistance at this time._

The brightness fades into a shadowy wash upon the sand and Sarek is gone. There is an echo of _as you wish_ that dies away, and Spock is left in the quiet stillness of the desert. He settles back into his thoughts, alone.

* * *

The sun crawls slowly above the horizon.

_Six hours, twenty minutes, ten seconds._

The next visitor stirs the sand at Spock's knees. When he opens his eyes at this interruption, he looks up at a towering, vaguely lined human form, dark in its distinctive clothing. The polish of the black boots draws Spock's attention downwards, glints sharply in the sunlight. It is Christopher Pike, former Captain of the Enterprise.

Before Spock decides to rise in greeting, Pike says, "Well-met, Mr. Spock."

_Indeed. I bide you welcome to my home._

The figure does not bend to him, stays straight-backed and tall with pride. "The desert is hot, isn't it?"

Spock does not understand the human's desire for "small talk," but he is familiar enough with the concept not to question its necessity. (Simplicity works best for response, he knows.)

_Yes._

Again, an unsettling silence invades the calm that holds Spock. When Pike shows no sign of explaining his presence or his purpose, the Vulcan voices his concern. _Captain Pike, why are you in Go'an?_

"I am here, _with you_, Mr. Spock. Have you need of me?"

_I am… uncertain._

Pike says, then, with a commanding voice of the past. "You must not be uncertain. You must be _sure_."

_I am not._ There is little else to say (to admit).

"Time runs on too quickly, Commander. Make your decision soon." Spock is about to inquire _why?_ when Pike evaporates into the heat of the day. Spock is alone. The calmness inside beckons him back so he gives in, closes his eyes, and loses himself to it.

* * *

Spock.

_Spock._

"Spock." This time it is the gentle whisper of a beloved voice that draws him out into the world.

_M'aih_, he sighs softly.

"Yes, dear. How long, Spock?"

_Two days and fifty-one minutes, Mother._

"I miss you. Won't you come back, my child?"

_I have not left._ Spock pauses, considers. He casts away the wondering words _Have I?_

Unlike the first two visitors, Spock cannot see a figment of his mother. She remains invisible to the eye (but visible to his heart); however, he does not need sight to recognize her. She is with him, now, very close at his right shoulder—a weight that he feels strongly. Spock is content to breathe deep and accept the company of his human mother.

When she speaks, her words are very quiet to his Vulcan hearing. "Will you accept my help, Spock_-kam_?"

He still does not understand. Help requires a state of distress. Here, he knows only long stretches of red sand and a welcoming heat against his skin.

She allows him no time to answer. "A storm is coming," Amanda warns. The last caress of her presence lingers with the plea _Please hold on._

* * *

The first sign is the electric crackling that runs along the clear sky. It awakens Spock from his restful mind with a sharp _snap_. The sun is high above his head now, bearing heat upon his black hair, along his bare shoulders. There is a metallic tang to the air. He tastes it as his lungs draw in a hot breath.

Spock is aware of the dangers of the Vulcan desert—of the sand firestorm that comes swift and deadly. He has no desire to be buried in such a rough, harsh grave but the pull at the edges of his mind will not release him.

It calls him to meditation, to leave the outside and turn in.

_Five days and eighteen minutes._

He decides that another moment of respite will affect the probability of a lingering, sand-choked death in the desert by less than five percent. _Acceptable…_ His eyes are heavy.

"Damn it, Spock!" This brings Spock sharply into awareness. Sand sprays his chest as a set of legs coming folding down in front of him.

_Doctor?_

The human he knows as Doctor McCoy reaches out and grabs his shoulders in a rough hold and suddenly Spock has a very vivid clarity. The desert around him comes into focus, stings him with strong wind. (The sand starts to shift.)

McCoy—no, _Leonard_—is a sharp blue, from his outfit to his intense eyes.

"Spock!"

_Doctor, I hear you. Do not—_

"Spock, come back, you blasted Vulcan! We can't do this without you." It sounds odd, like a confession which surely McCoy would never—

_Leonard._

The doctor ignores his attempt to return communication, as if Spock says nothing. Leonard is only intent on his own words. "Snap out of it!"

_I do not und—_

"Jim and I NEED YOU!"

Jim. The word is like a slap to Spock's face, sends his mind reeling.

The Captain. He has forgotten his Captain. (Who is with Jim?)

It's then that the storm breaks, as Leonard touches him, at precisely_ seven days._ The wind is sand-laden and bites through Leonard into Spock's eyes, nose and mouth. It covers his legs within seconds, and the loud _crack_ of electricity sounds too close behind.

Spock struggles to think. _Leonard—Jim!_

He dimly hears "Spock, HOLD ON, damn you!" before the howling of the desert crowds his ears and the calm inside him shatters into a thousand hot shards.

Spock runs through the scenario in his head: he cannot survive in the middle of Go'an alone. If he rises, moves, he will not get far before collapsing, and he risks attracting a deadly bolt of electricity. If he hunkers down, he will be buried alive until he suffocates (or goes mad).

A second set of arms close about his shoulders, shaking the sand off (not quickly enough, it piles back). It's Jim, he knows quite fiercely. It's Jim with Leonard and they are trying to help him.

He knows now that he _does_ need help. Not the _why_, exactly, only that he must have help or he will die here this barren place that is not calm at all.

_Yes_, he thinks numbly. _Help me. You must—_

"Spock!" Sound returns to him. Jim's voice, calling his name, echoing Leonard. They are with him still.

He pries his eyes open (when did they close?) and meets glaring white. The howling is dying down, smoothing out to a low whining pitch in his ears.

"That's it, Spock, c'mon. Turn your head—" His body feels sluggish, does not answer his commands quickly. "—just a little… there! Okay, you're okay." Leonard talks him through the motion until Spock is facing fully left and the white softens into dull colors. "Stay still now."

A face leans over into his line of sight.

"Hey there, Spock." Jim gives him a little smile that trembles at the edges. "No—don't move. Just do as Bones says." Jim is touching his cheek; the feeling is somewhat fuzzy, but it is familiar. "Was worried about you, Spock," the Captain confesses in a low tone.

"You and me both, Jim." Doctor McCoy's voice comes from a direction that Spock cannot see, but his ears—slowly filtering of that whine—pick up the soft _whirring_ of a tricorder. "Spock, I'm gonna touch your hand now, okay?" When Spock's body tenses, McCoy adds soothingly, "I need to know if you can sense anything. It'll be brief, I promise."

McCoy deliberately places his hand on Spock's wrist, lets it linger there for a minute, before slowly sliding his fingers over the back of Spock's hand and then under for the barest of touches against his fingertips.

It's quick and light; it gives Spock no jolt of emotion or thought from Leonard. He feels a slow trickle that he just as slowly identifies as worry and relief in pervading gentle waves, and something else… It's wispy, elusive. Perhaps—

"Spock? Are you still with us?"

Spock's eyes open again. He wants to speak but finds surprisingly that he has no strength for the task. He gives them a tiny nod which, despite its fractional movement, seems to ease a heavy weight from the room.

Jim wants to know, "Did you sense Bones?"

Again, Spock nods affirmatively. Jim leans back in a slump and runs a hand over his face. Leonard has come around the other side of the biobed (now Spock can tell that he's in Sickbay) and stands behind Jim, placing a hand on the man's shoulder.

Doctor McCoy says to his patient, "I want you to rest, Spock. I'm going to give you a mild sedative."

Normally, Spock would comment on the good Doctor's medicine turning his stomach but his energy is running out quickly. If the look in McCoy's eyes is indicative of his feelings, then Leonard also wishes that Spock could say those words. They will have to be content that he is with them. As Spock distantly feels the depression of a hypospray into his neck, he thinks of that scorching desert from whence he came. _Where?_ … _Why?_ His last thought slides away into cool darkness unanswered.

* * *

When Spock comes to again, he feels hot and wonders briefly if he is back on the sands of Go'an. His fingers, however, twitch against coolness and there are voices murmuring softly in the background. (He's not alone.)

"—very lucky—"

"—do now?"

"—couldn't have saved him if—Jim—"

It's this name that lingers in Spock's brain, because he knows only one Jim. It's a name that he does not use often, as he feels the appropriateness of most situations requires the use of Captain. But nonetheless, Spock thinks _Jim _and realizes that perhaps he is home after all. (Isn't it his responsibility, as First Officer, to stay close to the Captain?)

The antiseptic smell of Sickbay alerts him next. However, Spock does not feel that automatic return to his senses after the end of a healing trance. He can only conclude that his sleep is not natural to his Vulcan physiology, nor for the purpose of focusing his cells on the correction and replenishment of damage done to his body.

In fact, as Spock slowly fights the haziness of his mind, he does not recall an explanation for his presence in Sickbay. This encourages him to fight all the harder and open his eyes.

"He's waking up! Spock?"

"_Captain._" The word grates from his mouth.

"Just a minute, Spock." That Southern drawl catches his attention. Of course, it is only logical that Doctor McCoy, as CMO, is with Jim. A straw appears at the corner of his mouth and he obediently swallows a small amount of water. It coats the dry walls of his throat.

He tries again. "Captain." _15.35% improvement of speech._ Spock is ill-satisfied with this result. He continues to force out words anyway. "Sickbay—why? I do not—"

"It's alright, Spock." A hand squeezes his upper arm. (Yes, it is the Captain. The Captain must touch, always.) "You've been very—" he pauses for a mere second, flicks his gaze over Spock (to McCoy?) "—ill. But you will be fine, okay? Bones is taking great care of you."

Spock slowly turns his head in the other direction, catches the Doctor's (blatantly honest) gaze upon him. "Doctor McCoy, you must explain—"

"Now, Spock, you've just come back." _From death?_ Spock knows there is high possibility that Doctor McCoy consciously does not voice those words. "I don't think now's the time to be answering all those little questions piling up in that logical brain of yours." McCoy's words, surprisingly, are not harsh but almost gentle as he leans over to speak to Spock. It is this tone that convinces the Vulcan of the necessity to determine his condition.

"Explain," he says.

McCoy eyes him sharply, purses his lips. Before Jim can protest, he waves a hand at the Captain and says to Spock, "Alright."

The doctor takes a moment to raise the head of the biobed. Spock is grateful; lying flat makes him feel… no, not feel. It is uncomfortable, Spock corrects himself.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Spock's brain runs through his memory banks, backtracks through odd visions of sand and familiar voices until it meets a very serene whiteness. _A blank spot._ Now, more than ever, Spock understands the meaning of the word unnerved.

"I am… experiencing memory loss, Doctor."

McCoy shakes his head, makes no comment. (Does he know how troubling this is for the First Officer?) "Well, give yourself some time to recuperate, and there is a good chance that you'll regain your memory."

Some of the tension eases out of his shoulders (without Spock's command). "As you say."

"Spock—" McCoy breathes deeply, allows the professional edge to creep into his voice. "You were poisoned."

Both of Spock's eyebrows shoot up in involuntary surprise. "Deliberately?" he asks.

The Captain is as grim as the First Officer has ever seen him. Kirk's voice is hard, flat. "Yes."

Spock remains silent for ten point six seconds. It is the First Officer who addresses the situation. "We must notify Starfleet Command in due course; however, for the present it is imperative not to raise alarm."

McCoy bursts out, "Is that all you can say? Someone, on this ship, just tried to murder you, you damn hobgoblin!"

Spock meets his bright blue eyes. "Was it you, Doctor McCoy?"

McCoy shuts up, then, and backs up a few surprised steps. He looks something akin to horrified. "No, for Christ's sake, I—Spock, I—we don't—"

"Understood, Doctor. I would not accuse you of such a crime. However, I cannot speak for every crewman aboard the Enterprise. It is only logical to assume pretense in order to determine the guilty party."

The Captain, who had gone gray at Spock's blatant question to McCoy, nods now in agreement. "Spock is right, Bones. We'll have to pretend that we don't realize the origins of his sickness."

This brings McCoy back to Spock's bedside. "Like another one of his Vulcan biological imperatives?"'

"Incorrect, Doctor." McCoy narrows his eyes, but Spock interrupts his next words. "However, your expertise in medicine may find a suitable… explanation."

"Ya want me to lie, Spock?"

"Misdiagnose."

Doctor McCoy snorts. "I'll try not to be insulted. Fine. Let me think on it. In the meantime—"

Spock allows the doctor to perform his duties without complaint. He folds his hands over his chest, closes his eyes (his body calls for rest) and contemplates the idea of a premeditated (unwarranted) act of violence against his person.

_Why?_

There is little logic in murder.


	2. Part 2

**Part Two**

Spock has brief, strange dreams of the desert, and while he does not dream often—as a half-Vulcan—he concludes that his mind must be affected by the remnants of the poison filtering out of his system. He does not mention the dreams to Doctor McCoy, though there are few other symptoms with which to placate the man.

McCoy informs Spock that he has been unconscious for the better part of a week with waning vitals in the last four days. At the beginning, as Sickbay personnel struggled to diagnose the cause of Spock's sudden illness, they had hoped the Vulcan was in a normal healing trance, but M'Benga had his doubts after careful scrutiny (as did McCoy), said Spock's brainwave activity was not characteristic of their (meager) past records. Once they discovered traces of an unknown agent in his blood, it had become a matter of determining its effect on Vulcan physiology. McCoy is still worried about those effects, as he cannot fully identify what the poison is, only that it's water-soluble and tapering off in concentration the longer Spock survives.

He wants to keep Spock under surveillance in Sickbay for at least another half-week, but Spock convinces the Captain, who convinces McCoy, for an early release date with the promise that he will remain close to his quarters, wear a sensor band that alerts Medical if needed, and NOT to participate in strenuous activity for the next two weeks.

So it is that Spock leaves Sickbay, not with a clean bill of health, but with two worried Humans in close attendance. He longs for a moment of meditation, to organize his thoughts, but Spock must first rid himself of the Captain and CMO. He does so with another plethora of promises—which they demand, after the Captain suspiciously scouts Spock's quarters, and after they both swear at Spock to keep those promises. Finally, at the very end of his patience, Spock herds them both to the door and bids them good evening.

It's refreshing to be alone.

He immediately redresses into his mediation robes, settles on the floor in position and closes his eyes. The transformation does not come quickly, as if Spock is out of practice. He has to monitor his breaths and pulse until they are sufficiently conducive to his desire for calm, and slowly he filters out the noise of the starship until there is only quiet.

Spock sinks down into the core of himself, deeper, slowly coming to rest at a thin barrier. He floats gently outside of it, for three seconds, before pushing into it. It gives away to his entrance and Spock meets that state in which he is most familiar.

Only...

It's _not_ familiar this time, not quite.

There is something… different about this place. The serenity is present, yes, but glaring white is substituted for the cool deep black of Nowhere and Everywhere.

_Fascinating._

Then the white engulfs Spock's mind and he disappears.

* * *

Leonard follows Jim into the ready room, waits for Jim to finish ensuring that their conversation will remain private.

Jim turns on the doctor. "We shouldn't have let him leave Sickbay."

McCoy gapes for a moment before he fights past his incredulity. "_You_—YOU decided that he could leave, _Captain!_"

Kirk's hands go up automatically with _woah there, calm down, _and_ we're on the same side!_ "Bones, Spock made a solid argument for his release, but I admit I'm having my doubts now. I mean, I could always order him back to Sickbay…"

"Ha! You'd have better luck getting Chekov on my examination table—and let me tell you, Jim, that little Russian braggart knows how to wheedle out of any test remotely involving a hypospray."

Jim looks a little too interested in Chekov's tactics, so Leonard changes course quickly. "Spock, now, I'd be pleased to have him where I can keep an eye on him. We probably did make a mistake, letting him be alone. Especially if a would-be murderer is running loose."

This sets the Captain to pacing. "Why would anyone want to kill Spock?"

"Why does anyone want to kill anybody, Jim? That's an age-old question—one I doubt we'll know the answer to any time soon."

"Spock thinks he can bait them into attacking him again."

Leonard plops down in a chair. "Spock thinks he's the Almighty Invincible Vulcan. Which, given the events of these past two weeks, I'd say knocks that argument right outta the water!" When Jim narrows his eyes at McCoy to indicate that he does _not_ appreciate Len's humor, the doctor says, "Look, Jim, I don't like what we've got to do any more than you, but how else are we going to catch this bastard? Spock could have been poisoned days before he collapsed and we'd be none-the-wiser!" McCoy hates to admit how little he knows about what's running through that green blood of Spock's.

McCoy watches Jim pace for two minutes before he adds, "Jim, we cannot exclude that it could have been someone—close—to Spock."

This gives Jim pause, and he pivots towards McCoy. Leonard tries not to tense as Kirk approaches him without breaking stride until he reaches the very edge of McCoy's chair. "Like us, Bones? Or the Bridge crew? Who… _Uhura?_"

The doctor leans forward, meets his Captain's sharp gaze. "Remember Lt. Stiles, Jim? Didn't take much for him to call Spock a traitor, all 'cause of his pointed ears."

"Stiles is long-gone, McCoy."

"But other men like him? Who's to say? This could be personal—not just because Spock is First Officer of the Enterprise. Think about it."

Kirk and McCoy stare at another, measuring the other's regard. Finally, Jim breaks the tension between them. "I won't accept hate crimes on this ship."

"You damn well shouldn't, Jim-boy. We humans have come too far to have a few fools set us back because of nonsense like racism or xenophobia." Leonard leans back again, with a casual slump of his shoulders. "Maybe you oughta remind people aboard this ship just how little you'll tolerate it."

Jim is already nodding. "Yes, Bones, you can be certain that I will."

* * *

Spock wakes up, not on red sand, but at the base of the L'langon Mountains. This is very strange to Spock, as he recalls his last visit here, for his _kahs-wan_—and the attack of the le-matya which almost took his young life. There is no need to return to this place; Spock accepts himself for that which he is—represents, and he knows his value to the universe.

_Why I am here?_

Vaguely, in the far corner of his mind, a small instinct cries that this is _wrong_, that this is not Vulcan. However, there is a larger presence which persuades him otherwise—the raptor.

A long-beaked black bird—fairly immense in size—perches five-hundred feet up the tall cliff on an overhang. It eyes him with a dangerous tilt of its head. Spock, who has only seen the Vulcan raptor at the reserves, knows that this is a rare occurrence indeed. So few of these creatures are left on Vulcan.

It opens its wings and calls out in a high shriek, before folding them back into its body. Spock runs his eyes along the talons clenched onto rock. He is calculating the weight of the raptor when a voice pulls him from his thoughts.

_Greetings. I am your Trensu._

It seems natural that Spock's mouth opens and responds, "Yes, Trensu."

_You seek my wisdom._

Does he? The raptor cranes his neck down, leans over as if to speak, and a spray of dislodged pebbles tumble down at Spock's feet.

_You must climb to me. _

Spock is clutching at the first hand-hold his fingers find before the voice finishes speaking.

_Come._

He ascends with only the thought of reaching that ledge. When his foot catches on a jutting rock, Spock pauses and looks down. Starfleet-issued standard boots. This halts Spock's progress with a jerk, and he slowly raises his eyes to the blue, uniform-clad sleeve by his face. He's dressed as a Starfleet officer.

He_ is_ a Starfleet officer.

The realization comes sharply to him, breaks his mind of the droning voice that caws _come here! _And he wonders, fierce and inexplicably free, _why_ and _how_. Why is he here? How did he get to the L'langon Mountains… This is not _right_, doesn't fit; Spock cannot remember any detail before standing at the bottom of the—

_No! Focus!_

The raptor launches off the rock with a force that shakes the mountain beneath the Vulcan body. Its great wings spread wide in flight and Spock can see it circle back to him.

At him, straight at him, talons extended, sharp beak gleaming, open in a scream. Spock does the only logical thing he can when weaponless and vulnerable on a cliff-face. He lets go.

* * *

The sensor on Spock's wrist band is going wild with alarm. Spock comes to with the deafening pitch in his ears and McCoy crouched over him, patting his face. The Vulcan's cheek stings as if it's been slapped.

"Doctor, thank you, I am aware," he manages.

"God, Spock! What the Hell just happened! Your blood pressure is through the roof—"

Spock is already sitting up from the floor, does not protest when Doctor runs professional hands along his sides, through his hair.

"Well, you haven't sustained any damage."

Spock says, "I was sitting down. Meditating."

McCoy looks grim. "What else?"

"There is little else, Doctor. I was meditating and then—" He breaks off, his face blank. "I do not know." When Spock looks at the CMO, whose eyes are sharp with worry and speculation, he adds, "I believe that I was… not present in this room."

"You mean—" McCoy gestures at his head.

"Yes."

"Damn." The doctor unbends and rises. "Damn it!"

"Doctor?"

The human ignores him for approximately one point six minutes before turning his attention back to Spock. "Spock, you weren't alone."

The Vulcan's eyebrow goes up, and he is about to speak when a silhouette moves, says, "Everything alright, Doctor McCoy?" It's then that Spock realizes that Security officers are posted just inside his entryway.

"Fine, boys. Just keep a look-out for Jim. Spock, I want you to come back to Sickbay. No—close that mouth of yours! No arguing, ya hear? I'm ordering you as CMO of this damn ship. C'mon." McCoy's grip is firm and gentle as he steadies Spock on his feet. "Let's go."

"The Captain?"

"Took off after the fellow." Spock stops in the middle of the corridor, refuses to budge despite McCoy's insistent tugging. "What now, for Christ's sake!"

"You will explain your statement."

"'Christ's sake?' Geez, Spock—"

"_Doctor._" Spock lets the sharp word hang between them, knows that McCoy can hear his implied warning.

"Alright. But not here, okay?"

They proceed to Sickbay in a steady march. McCoy leads Spock into the CMO's office, shuts the door and engages the lock.

"Who?" Spock wants to know.

"Didn't get a good look at him. The lights were out, when we got there—Jim and I—and we honestly didn't think someone else was around. But he had to have heard us coming, or realized it when—" McCoy gestures at the sensor bracelet.

"Understood."

"I need to get Jim in here, Spock. He took a hard hit when the man fled. Blasted fool went after him anyway!"

If Spock tightens the clasped hands behind his back, McCoy cannot see him do so. "You entered my quarters and the perpetrator was within," he clarifies.

"Yes. Spock," McCoy approaches the Vulcan cautiously (as if at a wild animal). "I'll need to check you out, _completely_, for the record. Do you understand?"

Spock is silent; he comprehends that he must assure the doctor. "You may. However, you will find no evidence of foul play, Doctor." He says, in a marginally softer tone, "I am physically unharmed."

McCoy is grave, despite Spock's assurances. "Maybe in a physical sense, Spock, but I think it's safe to bet that you've been…"

"Compromised," Spock supplies.

"Yes. Compromised in some other way." The doctor turns his back for a moment, perhaps making a judgment that he does not wish others to witness. He paces over to the closed door, touches it briefly, and then addresses the Vulcan. "You'll have to stay with either Jim or myself, Spock, until we are certain of what's going on and who is after you. We're the only two, really, that can be safely ruled out." (_You can trust us, Spock._) McCoy's back muscles are tight with an unnamed emotion.

"As you wish." Spock will not disagree. He acknowledges the danger of his situation. The crucial question, however, is whether that danger will be the unidentified person, or if it is the assailant's capacity to ensnare his mind. (As a Vulcan, Spock knows which he fears more.)

McCoy—_Leonard_—turns around, then, at Spock's simple acquiescence. He sighs (with gratitude?) and says, "We'll do what we can, Spock, to protect you." The Vulcan does not reply. "Now, c'mon. Let's get started on those tests while I have time. When Jim gets here—"

Indeed, when the Captain arrives, there will be much distraction.

* * *

**A few side-notes:**

**_*Lt. Stiles_: Navigator during TOS S1 episode Balance of Terror in which the Enterprise meets a Romulan for the first time, and note how much Romulans look like Vulcans. Stiles accuses Spock of being a Romulan spy.**

***_kahs-wan_: Traditional Vulcan adulthood rite in which a young Vulcan makes a journey through the L'langon Mountains.**

***_le-matya_: Vulcan's version of a wild mountain cat. Spock encountered one on his kahs-wan; suffice to say, he survived, due to his cousin Selek and Spock's sehlat, I'Chaya.**

***_Trensu_ - means Master**


	3. Part 3

**Part Three**

"Jim—_Jim_—God dammit, Jim! Hold still or so help me, GOD_, I'll_—"

"Fine!" The Captain does a wonderful impression of Joanna's pouting toddler years. Leonard possibly grips the Captain's chin, to keep his head immobile, with more force than necessary. He's been struggling to close the weeping cut at Jim's hairline for the better part of five minutes. But Jim won't stop yapping, fidgeting, and generally being so damned frustrating that McCoy eyes his medikit (and tranquilizer therein) a little too wistfully. He vaguely wonders if Spock would retrieve the hypospray if he asks.

Speaking of, Spock sits quietly to McCoy's left. He's not meditating (McCoy has decided that meditation is a terrible idea by this point), but rather watching the irate CMO patch up the irate Captain. Leonard thinks Spock has a mental bet going on who'll throw the first punch.

No matter. They are all tense, even here in Jim's quarters and with the security codes re-enforced.

Jim wouldn't come to Sickbay. ("You damn stubborn fool! I saw that hit, Jim—_don't you ignore me!_") After a quick verbal snipping at one another, Jim had agreed to meet Spock and McCoy in his quarters. As far as Leonard could tell, the hunt for Spock's assailant was not progressing well. He would have made his condolences to the Captain, but Jim was having no discourse on the subject. He refused to quit looking until _every _nook and cranny of the Enterprise had been searched and scanned.

McCoy had to give in, once he got Jim's promise to seek medical help if he started feeling dizzy or light-headed (or, God forbid, began bleeding out of any orifice). Knowing the man as well as he does, Len sent two medics to "help" with the search and keep an eye on the Captain.

He finished up Spock's examination—which showed no new external or internal injuries, thank the Lord—and they hustled to the Captain's quarters. Leonard had just been trying to get Spock to lie down, quite loudly (and verbosely, Spock said) when Jim walked in.

Things went downhill from there.

Leonard snaps back to the task at hand just in time to catch Jim's last few words.

"—walked straight through the wall!"

Jim is still wound up so Leonard taps his shoulder with the dermal regenerator none too gently. "Easy there, Captain. Don't need you gettin' an aneurysm 'cause you can't catch a ghost."

"Doctor, that statement is most illogical. Obviously, I am not—nor have been—attacked by a spectral being."

McCoy snorts. "Says who?"

"It is unlikely that an… apparition can poison me, which requires at least a mass density of—"

"Spare me, please, you pointy-eared computer! So how do you explain the man walking through a panel of this ship, huh?"

Jim says, quite ill-temperedly, "I don't believe it myself. I had him cornered. I HAD him right there." Jim clenches his fists again. Leonard considers giving him another solid whack when Spock interrupts his (not-quite) attempt.

"Sensory manipulation."

That grabs both Kirk's and McCoy's attention. "Explain, Spock." Kirk demands rather than asks.

"Captain, given the circumstances of the attack—of a psychological nature—it is logical to assume that this person has a highly developed aptitude for mind control."

"Like you?" McCoy asks.

Spock is indignant, no doubt, at McCoy's indelicate inquiry. "_Unlike_ myself, Doctor. As touch-telepaths, Vulcans adhere to a moral code which precludes us from directly controlling the thoughts of others."

Jim is silent for a moment. He seems to have calmed down, for which Len is grateful. Kirk looks at his First Officer, face serious, and wants to know, "What about the mind meld you did on that female Kelvan?"

"Jim, I did not bend the will of her mind. I merely planted the strong suggestion of our release into her thought process. Her actions—and her decision to act—were her own."

McCoy wants no more of this debate. Technicalities aside, this subject is tedious and chock-full of shades of gray at best. They have more pressing issues to address.

"What you're saying, Spock, is that this… person made Jim and the security officers think he'd gone through a wall."

"So he could have been there the whole time. Damn!" Jim goes tense again, and McCoy throws his hands up in defeat.

"Alright, Jim, you want to beat yourself up over something you couldn't control… then go ahead. No skin off my nose." McCoy levels his finger right between Jim's eyes. "But don't expect me to put you back together afterwards!" Leonard goes over to his medikit and starts stuffing items back into it with all the irritation that he can muster. _Stupid angst-ridden Captains…_

"Bones."

_..and their stupid martyr-complexes…_

"BONES."

"What?" Leonard snaps. Jim reaches out and touches Len's stiff shoulder with warm fingers.

"I'm sorry."

Why Jim's _I'm sorry_'s can always deflate Len's anger is a world of mystery to the doctor. Nevertheless, he accepts Jim's apology just shy of embracing the man.

They step apart when Spock rises from his seat with that (envious) Vulcan grace. He's probably amused at their expense. Emotional humans! Ha! Give Leonard an emotional human over a stoic Vulcan any day. He's about to voice such when Jim beats him to the punch.

"Spock, shouldn't you be resting or something?" Jim looks at McCoy, who nods. "The CMO here says so."

"Captain, Vulcans do not have need of the same quantity of rest as—"

"Same old song and dance, Spock! How about traumatized Vulcans? I bet even traumatized Vulcans get outta whack and have to let their bodies adjust."

Spock's look clearly reads _Do I look traumatized?_ and _Your suggestion is highly illogical._

It'll be a cold day in Hell when Spock thinks that Leonard is _not _illogical.

McCoy bounces on the balls of his feet and says to Jim, "What's your advice for insubordination, Captain?"

Jim has that gleam in his eye that can only mean trouble. "Well, Bones—"

Apparently Spock recognizes the look in Jim's eyes too, because he says rather loudly for a Vulcan, "I require the use of your bed, Captain. I wish to retire."

Jim just grins. "By all means, Mr. Spock, be my guest."

Spock leaves the company of the Captain and CMO. McCoy turns, studies the flickering anxiety reflected back at him (he's sure it matches his own) and wants to know, "What's your plan, Jim?"

"I don't know, Bones. But _we'll _think of something."

They do so for the next few hours. In the end, however, they have to admit defeat. Leonard stretches out his legs on the couch, exhausted. Jim denies any drowsiness, despite that Leonard could trace the tired lines next to his mouth (if he so dared), and leaves for a midnight ramble around the upper decks. (Jim takes his phaser, just in case.) By the time McCoy quiets his thoughts, he can barely force his eyes to stay open. He gives in to sleep.

* * *

Jim takes the turbolift to the observation deck. Once inside, he automatically goes to the decorative sailing steering wheel and lays a hand upon one of its wooden spokes. Then Kirk allows himself to shuck the shroud of Captain—the weight of duty—and return to the man Jim. (A man who feels tethered by earth, knows only the sweet call of the stars.)

There's a killer on his ship.

More than that… there is a killer who wants to hurt Spock. Anger burns inside him, and he knows that the emotion is almost futile at this point. Yet Jim cannot seem to respond in any other way. Leave it to Bones to be the cool-headed one. That little piece of irony instigates a tiny smile at the corners of his mouth. He releases his tight grip and drops his hands to his sides. The stars seem so close, just a pane separating Man and Wonder. Looking at them calms Kirk down (always does).

He knows that he is missing a vital piece of the puzzle—and not just the assailant's identity. There is a clue or some evidence that _must _have been left behind, ignored, or unrealized—only Jim just cannot see it. He raises a hand, touches the burning cold of the window. Some small detail that…

…what was it Spock said? Sensory manipulation.

Jim feels that he can barely accept such a possibility, despite the many strange encounters he has had as Captain of the Enterprise. He would rather face a situation he understands, can handle and correct effectively. But if the scenario were true, what could they do against a being with telepathic abilities to make others see what he wills?

What could a mere man, like Jim, do?

Jim draws in a sharp breath, then. When the enemy is shooting at you with a new weapon, chances are that he hasn't worked out all of the kinks yet. If there's something—anything—that it _can't _do…

The answer strikes Kirk with a bright clarity. He knows exactly what his enemy cannot control.

* * *

Spock catches the drifting, forceful thought _Don't wake up_. It pushes against his mind, and so Spock reacts naturally. He opens his eyes and digs the blunt fingernails of one hand into the palm of the other; the pain is refreshing and provides the balance he needs to focus (to combat the order).

Someone is close by; someone who _can_ speak to his mind.

Spock slides from the Captain's bed and seeks out either of his human companions. McCoy is asleep on the couch. He cannot feel Jim's presence within the normal range of his senses. Where the Captain has gone, Spock does not know.

"Doctor McCoy." Spock crouches next to Leonard. "Doctor." The increase in his voice does not disturb the human's sleep. When Spock reluctantly places a hand on McCoy's shoulder, shakes him ever so slightly, Leonard shows no sign of coming to awareness.

The decision is split-second, almost too easy. He places his fingertips on the side of McCoy's face and takes a deep breath.

And meets a wall.

A strangely solid, unforeseen block to Leonard's mind. He can feel the human's thoughts beneath it, flowing peacefully in dreams. That the wall is not of Leonard's making, Spock is positive. When he probes gently at it, the words _do not wake_ swirl out before retreating back into pattern of the bind.

Indeed, there is someone with a far greater mental aptitude than the First Officer has record of aboard this ship. He seems intent on Mr. Spock, intent enough to harm others to achieve his goal.

That a decent (though willful) man like Doctor McCoy can be a puppet in such unkind hands… it makes Spock angry. Yes, he admits to himself. _This is anger._ This is the feeling—that easily turns to black rage—which drove his people to control emotion with an iron fist.

He does not embrace it, but lets it simmer in his core. It can be a weapon, if he has need of such.

A scraping sound outside of the Captain's quarters alerts Spock to the imminent intruder. Spock softly orders the lights to lower until the room is dark and full of shadows. (That the Captain's quarters are programmed to respond to his voice commands, Spock will contemplate later when he has ample time.)

The Vulcan silently leans into a corner, crouched. Light spills into the room for a brief few seconds as the door slides back and a figure slips in. Too tall for the average female height; uniform consists of pants and short sleeves—most likely Medical or Science. Spock narrows his eyes, watches the figure slide around the furniture. When it bends over McCoy, Spock must restrain the urge to move. He counts each agonizing second that passes until the man (it must be male, he concludes) backs away from the doctor and turns toward the Captain's bedroom.

The soft penlight in the man's hand bounces and catches an angle of his face.

Spock has to quell his intake of breath. _Lieutenant Marcus Tarind._ There is a strange sensation in the Vulcan's chest—hollow, cold (frightening). _Of the Science Department. _Spock's_ department. _

The man that Spock has supervised and exchanged admirable intellectual conversation with for the past three years, now identified as his assailant, goes completely still, as if he senses Spock's thoughts. Then the form straightens up, hands dropping to his sides, and a quiet voice speaks from the darkness. "Hello, Mr. Spock. You're awake. I didn't plan on that."

Spock sets aside his surprise and rises from the corner. "Light, 50%." The room brightens.

Tarind merely turns to face Spock, smiling.

"Lieutenant," Spock gives little pause in his demand. "You will explain your actions. Did you enter these quarters with the intention of committing a crime?"

"Mr. Spock, my pardon. Yes, I suppose that I did."

"Then I place you under arrest by Regulation—"

Tarind says with a short bark of a laugh, "You won't do that."

Spock has no patience left. "You are hereby—"

"Doctor McCoy will kill himself."

Spock's words dry up in his mouth at Tarind's blatant announcement. "Illogical. Doctor—"

"Uh uh. Not another word, _Sir_. And don't worry about our CMO… If you do as I tell you, I won't plant the idea in his head."

"You cannot—"

"_I can._ You and I both know what I'm capable of." Spock's eyes do not flicker as an image of a sharp-taloned raptor runs through his mind. "I will do it, too, if you don't cooperate."

"What are your terms?"

Tarind moves back slowly, watchful of the Vulcan, to the entryway. "Simple, for now. Come with me, into the corridor. Go where I go without protest—and without arousing the suspicion of others. Understand?"

Spock says nothing. Perhaps when Tarind is far enough away, his mental hold on Leonard will weaken—

"Quit thinking, you stupid Vulcan!" Tarind's amiable façade twists into something ugly before his face relaxes back into a cool visage. "Deal?"

Spock knows that if he prolongs agreeing to Tarind's demand, the Captain may return to these quarters and fall prey to the man's control, as easily as Tarind executed his earlier escape. "I will comply." Spock proceeds Tarind from the Captain's quarters.

* * *

Jim is running through the corridor, barely dodging the random ensign as a single thought pounds through his head. _Too late._

There are scorch marks around the code pad to his door. It makes him go cold inside. Phaser-armed, Jim steps into his quarters and takes a quick survey of the scene. It's quiet.

The feeling in his chest doesn't go away. Instead, it increases.

Bones is asleep on the couch, one arm hanging trailing loosely to the floor. When Jim kneels next to him, shakes McCoy, he gets a slow mumble as Bones struggles to wake up. Satisfied, Jim says, "Get up, Bones. There's trouble."

Jim leaves the man then and goes directly into his bedroom.

It's empty.

_Spock._ Where's Spock? (He feels sick.)

"Jim?" The strange (weak) tone of McCoy's voice drags Jim back to the present and to the man who is bent at the waist on the couch, head in hands and groaning.

"Bones, what's the matter? Are you okay?"

Jim lifts Leonard's head gently, notes the lines of pain around his eyes.

"Feel like there's a sledge hammer attacking my brain."

"Did you take anything?"

McCoy grimaces. "Hell no, Jim. Just fell asle—"

Jim catches Bones easily as he blacks out.

_Shit._ Laying McCoy on the floor, Kirk comms Sickbay, tells them to get here _now_. Then he orders his computer to locate Mr. Spock.

Bones comes around after a minute or so. "_Jim…_" The name is slurred, like McCoy is drunk.

"Right here, Bones. Don't worry, Medical is on the way."

"Not worried about—where's Spock?"

Jim has a quick and nasty debate with himself about whether or not he should tell McCoy what he knows. Leonard, despite his incapacitation, must pick up on his hesitation. McCoy demands quietly, "Tell me."

"It's one of Spock's personnel in the Science Department. Lieutenant Tarind."

McCoy's eyes are surprisingly sharp blue. "Tarind? Yeah, I—" The doctor shudders so suddenly that Jim fears for a moment the doctor is having a seizure.

"Bones, don't—it's okay—"

"Ain't okay, Jimmy." Leonard bites out. "How'd ya figure out it was Tarind?"

"It was Spock's idea, actually. _Sensory manipulation._ If he was right—"

"—_he's always right_—" It's said in a soft sigh that almost makes Jim smile. He catches himself.

"—then whoever it was could fool our minds… but not the mechanics of a starship. So I went down to Security and tapped into the vid feeds again from earlier today. We'd have laughed, Bones, if it had been any other situation. Tarind was _following_ us the entire time, not running from us. He's smart, I'll give him that. When Scotty and I originally reviewed the feeds, we were only looking for the man that we were chasing—who wasn't there. That's why I was so angry. I thought—well, nevermind what I thought. The point is, Bones, while we searched for him like blind fools, he was directing us like a bunch of puppets."

"Damn."

"Exactly," Jim agrees.

"Jim, you gotta go. Spock's in trouble, right? You have to go."

The Captain almost rebels in that instance, until he looks down into McCoy's quiet face. The doctor urges, "Go on, Jim. Spock needs you."

He helps prop McCoy up, retrieves the location of Mr. Spock from his console, and leaves one of the dearest souls to his heart behind for another.

* * *

Tarind locks them into an empty science lab on the 47th deck. He congratulates Mr. Spock. "You did well. Thank you for that. Have a seat."

"I will stand."

Tarind shrugs a shoulder. "Always were too formal for me, Mr. Spock. I wonder, is that because of your Vulcan upbringing, or are you just naturally uptight?"

"The characteristics of my personality are not relevant to this discussion."

"No, I guess not." Tarind smiles.

Spock is direct. "Are the Starfleet records pertaining to your mental aptitude false?"

"They weren't when I enlisted. Now? Yes." Tarind paces in a circle around the Vulcan. "Do you remember when I came to you with a proposal for a new biochemical experiment?"

"_A Protoplasmic Catalyst in the Development of the Psi Factor_," Spock draws the title from memory.

"You turned it down."

"All Starfleet research funds are currently allocated to the experiments necessitated by our designated missions. I stated this."

"Oh, c'mon! How stupid do you think I am? You're Science Officer, not to mention First Officer. If you'd asked Starfleet for more money, they would have sent it!"

"Lieutenant, I am bound under the same regulations as any other officer. I cannot—"

"Don't LIE to me!" Tarind jerks his upper body as anger tightens his muscles. "Vulcans can't lie, right?" he spits. "Don't think that this _entire crew_ doesn't know how you and McCoy and Captain Kirk bend the rules when you want to—"

"If we do so, it is for the good of—"

"Shut up, _Spock_."

Spock does refrain from further comment, but not at Tarind's behest. He is momentarily distracted by a soft _bang _outside the lab door. Spock casually shifts his position, begins to float around the room (closer to the door) as if in thought.

"You have not explained how you developed your ability since you boarded the Enterprise. I admit that I am curious, Lieutenant."

"I spent my free shifts working on the final stages of my experiment. It's been my pet project for years. I thought that, on the _Enterprise_, people would listen—" He breaks off, muscles in his jaw working. "I made a break-though." Tarind's eyes are lit, now, as he warms to his subject. "I developed a serum that interacts with the neurons of the brain. It stimulates their firing by almost 45%, specifically in the upper brain. After a few adjustments, I stabilized the electrical impulses over the temporal lobes, enhanced and re-directed them…"

"Most interesting. The visual-motor cortex, I presume?"

"The center that cultivates illusions and dreams, yes, among others." Excitement laces Tarind's voice. "Don't you understand! I can manipulate those things. _Me!_ I can see _inside your mind_, Mr. Spock." The scientist's eyes are fever bright. "'My mind to your mind.'"

The direct quotation of Vulcan telepathic principle—from Tarind's mouth—makes Spock go ramrod still. (His hearing picks up muted syllables—words outside of the lab.)

"Those places you dreamed—the desert and the mountains—I created them from your memory banks. You literally gave me the canvas to work with… beautiful, really." Lt. Tarind is idly smiling to himself as he skims a hand along a laboratory table, picks up each test tube in the slotted sequence and gives them a little shake (even when they are empty). "Isn't it amazing? I've been dosing myself with the serum for the last four months. Finally, _finally,_ after all that waiting and practice, I tested high enough on the Psi scale. Can you believe it? The accomplishment alone—"

Spock barely tolerates Tarind's mad dialogue. As a scientist, he could be interested in the progress of Tarind's experiment, but the man is dangerous and obviously power-hungry now that he has a taste of mental exploitation. (Such wasted potential.) He watches Tarind pace the length of the room, seeks to determine the man's actions. Tarind catches his intent focus, mistakes it for an emotion like fear.

"I _am_ sorry, Mr. Spock. But you have to understand my position—you're a scientist too! You are the only telepath aboard this vessel. I-I couldn't use anyone else." He pauses, continues. "Well, that's not entirely true. I have been practicing on others, but they don't have the strong mental shields that you do—and the more I take—_study_, the more I can conquer… I slipped a tasteless neuro-dampener—my own special concoction—in your plomeek soup. It was for the best, Mr. Spock, to make the culling process less painful for us both."

"To harm another being in such fashion is a crime, Lieutenant. Amongst my own people, it is punishable by death."

Tarind smiles nervously. "But if no one knows about it, how can they punish me? I can make them see its benefits, Mr. Spock, truly I can! The formula increases the Psi ability in the latent areas of the brain. Imagine what this could do for Terrans! We wouldn't be at the mercy of races like the Romulans and the Betazoids."

"You have made the false assumption that you have the right to interfere with the natural development of your species."

Tarind goes pale (with fury?). "Of course you would say that. You don't want Terrans to be better than _Vulcans_." The word is almost sneered. His eyes are now wildly tracking around the lab and back to Spock. "You think your Vulcan-half makes you so much better…_so superior to us!_"

"Lieutenant—"

"Well, we'll see who's the stronger, won't we!"

He makes a dive for Spock who uses the man's hasty act to sidestep and grab his arm, swing Tarind around. If Spock can just get his hand on the man's neck…

"_No!_" The howl is horrible (high and desperate). Tarind wrenches a hypospray from his pocket and jabs it into Spock's arm. Spock lets out an involuntary gasp when the lights in the room flare to a blinding white. Tarind takes that moment to grab the Vulcan's right hand, and Spock staggers as his senses are inundated with chaos. Tarind drops the hypospray and pressing his other hand against the side of Spock's face, wrenching at his hair. The last thing the Vulcan hears is the high-pitched squeal of the lab door giving way to laser and physical force, and the reverberation of "_Spock!_"

Spock falls into the onslaught of Tarind's mind and the battle begins.

* * *

**Footnotes****:**

*****_**Kelvan female**_**: refers to the TOS S2 episode "By Any Other Name" when Jim and others are trapped in a cave guarded by Kelinda, a Kelvan (race from beyond the Great Barrier). Spock uses a long-distance mind meld to get her to open their cell. **

*****_**steering wheel (ship)**_**: In ST V: The Final Frontier, we see that an upper deck has a large navigational ship wheel with the plaque "To Boldly Go Where No Man Has Gone Before" on it. (Kirk would be a sea Captain in the 20****th**** century, don't you think?)**

* * *

… **We're not near the end at all. Sorry! And, um, you guys love me, right? Please remember that! I know bad stuff has happened, but here's fair warning: the situation is going to get**_** much worse**_**. **


	4. Part 4

****

****

**Part Four**

Spock falls into the black mind of a maniac. There are barbs which catch on the edges of his mind and rip away pieces of the shields that protect the Self. He tries to fortify his defenses, but he feels disjointed and his strength dissipates quickly. The shields are crumbling, Spock is falling, and a torrent of howling laughter sweeps him down into the dark.

* * *

Leonard hears a distant voice calling, "Leonard? Len, can you respond?" He would answer, but the stabbing pain in his head has caused a full retreat. McCoy knows that if he stays this way—floating in the cool white of a half-conscious state—then he can perhaps survive the torture of his brain by those hot iron spikes.

But then there's Jim. Jim AND Spock, who both must be in trouble because they aren't hanging around pestering him to return to the land of living.

Serious _deadly_ trouble, most likely.

_Damn, damn, damn! _

Why can't a hurting fellow get a break from danger-attracting people like the Captain and First Officer? Bones only remembers falling asleep on the couch, not drinking an entire case of Romulan ale, so _he_ can't be to blame for his condition.

"_A'right…_" The word comes out terrible and grossly abused in his Southern accent. This seems to calm down the insistent nagging of that familiar voice (Christine?) who demands Doctor McCoy's attention. "I hear ya. Just—_Oooh_, God A'mighty!"

Light sears the optical nerves attached to his brain once he peels his eyes open. "Get that outta my eyes, Nurse! Are you trying to kill me?"

"Len, I'm _trying_ to do my job! Did you hit your head at any time?"

"What? No, for Christ's sake! I've taken longer tumbles off the transporter pad than that couch. Just help me up—"

"No, you need to stay down." He ignores her. "Leonard! I know where you hide the restraints."

Christine's not playing fair. McCoy needs those restraints… How many times has he prevented the Captain from committing bodily harm to himself (and Len) by strapping the man to the biobed? If word gets around, and Jim finds out, Jim'll—

_Oh Hell. Jim._

Now McCoy remembers with clarity why he has to wake up this instant. Jim has gone after Spock who has disappeared—no doubt dragged off to an airlock by his pretty pointed ears.

_Hell and damnation!_

"Christine, you know where that stim—"

She's way ahead of him—and resisting like a stubborn mule too. "Oh no you don't, Leonard McCoy! You are _seriously _ill. Until we determine the cause—"

"To Hell with the cause, Chris! I need to get to Jim and Spock."

"What good will you do if you stand up and throw a clot, Len? How can you help anybody if you're DEAD?"

Leonard pushes her hands away and struggles to sit up. "See, all's fine so far."

She is already pulling out a hypospray from her pocket, and Leonard stumbles to his feet and as far away as he can manage. "No." Before Christine can argue, Leonard snaps at the nearest medical tech to locate the Captain and the First Officer.

He'll be damned if they die on his watch.

* * *

Spock hasn't blinked his eyes in the five minutes since Jim first fell to his knees beside the Vulcan. Spock's eyes are open, staring at nothing. It's the emptiness in them that scares Jim to his core.

Security has already handcuffed and set watch on Lieutenant Tarind, who seems to be in no better condition than the First Officer. Jim is positive that whatever terrifying thing is happening at this moment, it's in a place he cannot reach. And Spock is fighting alone.

"Jim!"

The sound of McCoy's voice has his head swiveling to the partially melted lab door. The pain in Kirk's face must be glaringly obvious because the doctor is on his knees beside Jim, touching him with reassuring hands before he focuses on Spock.

Spock, who is so still, like a dead man.

"Tell me, Jim."

Kirk explains all that he knows—from locating Spock to this laboratory, breaking through the door (_not quickly enough_, he doesn't cry out), and finding two prone crewmen on the floor, locked in each other's arms in a grotesque mimic of battle.

"We found this, Bones." He motions one of the Security guards to hand Doctor McCoy the empty (used) hypospray. "Had to have belonged to Tarind."

"Who injected the contents into Spock. _Damn it!_ We can't win against this bastard." McCoy stops scanning the Vulcan with his tricorder. "Let's get 'em to Sickbay. Spock's readings are all over the chart, and I can't work with these meager tools—" McCoy breaks off with a sharp swallow, head bent.

Jim cannot see Bones' face. Suddenly it hits him that McCoy is still ill.

"Bones! Why aren't you in Sickbay?"

McCoy slowly lifts his head to meet Jim's eyes. He says fiercely, through the tightness in his voice, "Why didn't you go to Sickbay after you got knocked upside the head, Jim? 'Cause you couldn't! Not when it's Spock's life at stake! Now let me do my damn job."

Kirk can do little else but nod his assent. He issues orders to the other officers, and within another few minutes, they have Spock and Tarind loaded onto gurneys heading to Sickbay. Jim doesn't bother convincing Bones to take a ride on one too, because he sees his own stubbornness reflected out of those blue eyes.

Nevertheless, Kirk makes a promise to himself to help Spock_ and_ McCoy.

* * *

Spock enters the Bridge and goes to the empty Captain's chair. There is a shrill whistling from the navigation console that indicates a head-on collision course with a bright red sun that dwarfs the other stars in this quadrant. The Bridge screen is zoomed out far enough that it looks miniscule and very far away. But even at such a distance, the sun spits out fire in anticipation of their arrival.

In truth, Spock knows that on the ship's present trajectory, which he cannot alter (he's tried), they will be sucked into its gravitational fields in less than one point sixty-six hours. In less time than that, the hull shall reach its melting point; then the Enterprise will implode and become a tiny piece of molten heat and radiation.

The ship-wide comm crackles to life (again). _Beautiful, isn't it, Mr. Spock? Soon we shall be One!_

Spock runs a hand along the top of the chair, lets his fingers brush against the buttons on its right armrest. He thinks about the quality of a man who would sit there and not shiver in fear as they sail to their fate.

_Take the chair. She's all yours._

Who does this voice belong to, that taunts him at every turn he makes? When Spock searched for other personnel (after he woke up, could barely recall his name), it said _No one but us, Vulcan_. As he entered Sickbay, seeking an unknown presence but not quite sure why it had to be_ there_, harsh laughter filtered out of the overhead speaker—didn't stop until he retreated into the corridor and turned heel for the turbolift.

He is alone but dogged by the sound of his own failure. Why else would Spock, son of Sarek, command an empty vessel set to burn?

He drops his hand to his side and goes to the Science station.

_Sit in the chair! _It's an order.

That gives Spock pause and he straightens from towering over the scope. "I have no desire to do so."

_You will take the Captain's seat. YOU are Captain of this ship!_

He is? Spock does not recall being awarded such an honor, nor does he feel a stirring inside him that agrees. Captain Spock—the words do not fit, but he lacks memory to neither deny nor accept the charge. "You are incorrect."

The comm system shrieks with static, but Spock ignores it. He merely adds, "If I am to die, I would prefer… this position." Spock takes a seat at his newly claimed station. "I am Science Officer."

_No!_ The word is sharp, loud, and angry.

Spock raises his eyebrow and goes back to turning a series of dials. _One hour, twenty-nine minutes, five seconds until termination._

* * *

"He won't respond to any treatment, Jim. It's worse than the last time."

"There has to be a way!"

"We're not telepaths! What the Hell can we do?" McCoy curses strongly. "Damn!" He sends the PADD in his hands smashing against a table.

Jim looks taken aback at Leonard's grand display of temper. "Bones, calm down."

"Calm down? CALM DOWN! Spock is fighting for his God-damn Vulcan _mind_, for all we know, and we're stuck out here. We're useless, Jim, _useless!"_

"We'll find a way—"

"Will we? I don't—" McCoy's words cut off as he hunches over and presses a hand to his head. Jim is there instantly, supporting him and ready to help him sit down should McCoy's legs give out. This is the fifth episode the doctor has had since their arrival in Sickbay.

"Bones, I am calling M'Benga."

"No!" Leonard grabs at Jim's shoulder and painfully straightens up. "I'm alright now, Jim. It's just a… side-effect."

"Of what?" Kirk demands. "You don't even remember how you got this way!"

"I'm beginning to think that it wasn't me."

Jim silently peers into McCoy's face as if he can read the man's thoughts. "Tarind did break into my quarters, Bones."

"Yeah, and I didn't wake up, did I? Funny, 'cause I'm a light sleeper… comes with the territory of the medical profession."

Jim releases McCoy, once the doctor is steady enough on his feet, and runs a grim hand over his face. Bones looks just as grim (and pained).

"Jim—whether Tarind did something to me or not—I don't matter right now. Do you see this?" McCoy leads Kirk over to the EEG that monitors Spock's brainwave activity. "See these waves here? Those are delta waves, the ones we associate with unconscious or comatose patients."

Jim nods, unable to speak around the lump forming in this throat.

Leonard's eyes are sad as he observes the Captain. "His activity up here—" McCoy taps his forehead, "is deteriorating, Jim. If we don't do something soon, he's going to be brain-dead."

It's a blow that hurts Jim more than he wants to acknowledge. Leonard runs a hand along the Captain's arm in silent comfort. When Kirk is able to focus again, push past the pain of the horrifying words _brain-dead_, he stares at the patterns on the EEG. After a minute of numb observation, something catches his attention. "Why does it spike like that, Bones? If Spock's in a coma…"

"Don't know. There's an occasional blip of activity—and even stranger, it isn't localized in one area of the brain. But I'm not a neurologist, Jim, especially not for Vulcans." McCoy doesn't count that time he had to put Spock's entire brain back into his head. (It makes him shudder with wonder and fear in remembrance.)

"Would you say that something might be going on…that we can't pick up?"

Doctor McCoy wonders how much hope he can give Jim—when he knows there is a good chance that Spock won't come back to them.

"I can't say for certain."

It's Captain Kirk who turns on him. "That's not good enough, McCoy!"

Leonard tries not to respond right away, wills that bubbling anger not to surface. He understands, better than most, how Jim reacts to stressful situations. Instead, he replies calmly, "I'm sorry, Captain."

McCoy turns on his heel and leaves Spock's bedside. Kirk follows him. When McCoy reaches another part of Isolation, it's to observe the still figure of Lt. Tarind. He nods to the Security officers and the nurse who is monitoring the man's condition. Tarind is different than Spock, quite more so than they had previously assumed. While Spock's brain activity seems to be muted—fading—Tarind shows a high concentration of activity in his cortex. His brain is working overtime, and it puzzles McCoy to no end.

"Bones."

Leonard waves off Jim's imminent apology. "The Lieutenant won't wake up either, but it's almost as if he resists awareness on purpose."

This brings Jim to McCoy's side. "You mean he is consciously ignoring us—to do what, stay in his head?"

"Something like that."

"Can we force him to wake up?"

Leonard takes a minute to gather his thoughts. He goes over to the EEG, studies it, and then turns back to Tarind. McCoy takes out his penlight, leans over and pulls back one of Tarind's eyelids—

—and a hand grabs his wrist tightly, yanks him half onto the biobed. "_Hello, Doctor._" It's a whisper from partially parted lips.

Leonard might have shouted a word then, maybe a cry for Jim or maybe the patient's name. His mind quells beneath Tarind's "_Welcome to Hell._" There is the sharp sound of _Bones!_ behind him and another arm looping around his middle, pulling at him. He can't speak, then, when it matters most to tell Jim to let go, to warn him away.

Pain spreads like wildfire, starting in the back of his head and working around to consume any coherent thinking. McCoy knows he's about to die. Just before he breaks under the terror of invasion, he feels another presence. It observes him with wonder and a surreal calm… so terribly familiar that McCoy's heart sings for a second—

_Spock. _

A force tears into remnants of his last thought and strips it away.

* * *

Spock is idly running a test on the Zeta-T particles that emanate from the sun and pass through the hull of the starship. He can find no satisfying means to spend the remaining minutes of his life. So he runs tests and calls up his past research publications to peruse them for errors. (Not that he would publish work based on incorrect data or false logic.) He is working through a physics equation when the monitor by his left arm beeps.

Spock accepts the message and reads _Detected: Two humanoid life-forms, Deck 47_.

The Vulcan is out of his seat, and in and out the turbolift in little more than a minute. His long strides eat up the distance as he runs his tricorder for the location of the life-signs. (Spock won't recall retrieving one later.)

Around the left corner and…

Spock stops as a laboratory door slides open before he can approach it. When he does not move, that (mocking) voice says from the speaker on the opposite wall, _I brought you a parting gift, Mr. Spock._ _Go on. Have a look._

He cannot contain his curiosity. Spock enters the lab and cautiously observes two prone, uniformed men.

_Familiar… _When he attempts to delve into his memory banks, he discovers chains and a lock which burn cold. (_Why?)_

One of the men stirs, blinks and sits up. He seems confused at his surroundings (if Spock reads his expression and posture correctly). Then the officer looks up at the Vulcan and says, "Spock?"

"I am Spock." He spreads his fingers in Vulcan greeting. "Live long and prosper."

"Holy Jesus, _it is you! _Spock—wait, where are we?"

"Deck 47, in Science laboratory 209."

"No, I meant—Jim? Ah, Hell! Jim, wake up!" This nameless man (why he does not introduce himself, Spock cannot understand) shakes his companion until the other groans and mumbles, "Stop, I'm awake, Bones."

_Bones? Fascinating._

"Jim, you'll never believe this… we're with Spock."

For some undetermined reason, both of these officers know of Spock but the acquaintance is not mutual.

The other man is on his feet in a flash and gripping Spock's upper arms with unnecessary force. Spock raises his eyebrows in response. "Spock! You… you're okay!"

"Correct." If an appending word tries to blossom in his mind, it wilts and dies before he can comprehend it.

"But how…" Whatever Jim's next words would be, he does not complete his statement. Jim releases his hold on Spock (who, surprisingly, did not find the touch uncomfortable) and stares intently at the Vulcan's face before looking away. The man then paces the length of the lab and finally circles back to the first officer (who Spock refuses to refer to as _Bones_).

His words are for his partner alone. "This is wrong."

The other adds, "I couldn't agree more."

Now Spock must interrupt. He requests, "Please identify your name and rank."

They turn as one to stare at Spock. Spock patiently awaits a response to his question. Finally, when one of them speaks, he says, "Yep, seriously wrong, Jim."

********

* * *

**Footnote:**

***_McCoy's reference to incident with Spock's brain: _alludes to ST TOS S3 episode "Spock's Brain" in which Spock has his brain removed and McCoy has to put it back in. :) It's crack-tastically wonderful and hilarious. Go watch it!**

* * *

**Now, ya'll know I love me some mind!trauma, but I think Tarind does more so-he's like a little kid playing in a sandbox! (Or is it that creepy kid with the matches?)**


	5. Part 5

**Part Five**

As it turns out, Spock has forgotten the important details—like serving on the Enterprise for the past four years and every person he' s met since that time. McCoy wishes for a medical tricorder to examine the amnesic Vulcan but he cannot seem to find one in Sickbay (where he's carted Spock and Jim). Even fiddling with the other equipment is useless because they seem present just for show (or Tarind is messing with McCoy, which is a moot point by now).

Leonard allows Jim to explain the facts of Enterprise life (in particular the last two weeks) to Mr. Spock, who says_ Fascinating_ after every five sentences that come out of Kirk's mouth. By now, the doctor is ready to use a different tactic—like smacking Spock upside the head to see if anything rattles around in there.

"Fascinating."

McCoy grits his teeth. "Would you stop saying that, you overgrown pointy-eared elf!"

Spock turns to him and says, "I find no logical reason for your insult… Doctor."

It's that typical form of address Spock tacks on that releases some of the tension in Leonard. Not that he would ever admit it to Spock, but having the Vulcan refuse to call McCoy by a name—his surname or title, which has become customary between them over the years—has unnerved the doctor more than he thought possible. (He's missed it too. _That_ little tidbit he'll definitely never say aloud.)

Jim rolls his eyes at them both. "Why am I not surprised? Could you two _not _argue right now? I'd like to figure out where we are!"

"Captain," Spock pauses after he says the name, "we are currently on the Medical deck of a constitution class starship—"

"The _Enterprise_, Spock. Yes, I am well aware of that. What I mean is…"

"…is this real?" McCoy finishes.

"Exactly."

Spock looks grave. "If your statements are correct, then our bodies—and this ship—are psychological manifestations in which our minds reside… and therefore interpret as real."

"But whose psyche is it—Tarind's or yours, Spock?" McCoy crosses his arms to hide the shaking of his hands. He hates the thought of being trapped in someone's mind.

"It is highly unlikely that we reside in my mind, Doctor McCoy. My mental capacities are… compromised." McCoy has a sense of déjà-vu. He says nothing, because Spock won't remember that conversation anyway.

"Basically then," Jim summarizes, "we're in Tarind's mind—and it looks like the Enterprise?"

"Indeed, I presume this to be true."

Jim turns to Leonard, who hasn't any useful advice to share. "Don't know, Jimmy. I was creeped out the moment I woke up in that lab." _And realized I wasn't dead_, he doesn't mention that. "Not only are we stuck in this God awful place, but we aren't physically here! Spock's been hoodooed—" (_wiped clean) _"—and I don't have a clue how to fix it! I'm a doctor, not a mind guru. That's Spock's department." _Ah, the irony_, he thinks bitterly.

"I find your dialect most fascinating, Doctor."

That startles Leonard into a smile. "Why, thank you, Mr. Spock." He makes sure to drawl the words twice as long as he normally does. Spock's eyebrows go up, so McCoy raises one of his own in return.

Jim is shaking his head but makes no comment at their behavior. Rather, he directs his next question to Spock. "Tell us everything that has happened since you found yourself here."

"Once regaining awareness, I attempted to locate other life-forms aboard this vessel." His face goes blank. "However, a voice—" _("—a voice!" "Don't interrupt, Bones.")_ "—informed me that there were no others present… until yourselves, of course."

"Spock, was it in your head?" McCoy's not even sure if that's possible—a voice inside the mind of your mind—but, by now, he feels that nothing should be surprising. _It's all so damn crazy! _(McCoy's upset and confused.)

"Negative, Doctor. It speaks over the inter-ship communication units."

Jim stalks over to the comm unit by the door. He stares at it expectantly, maybe hopes that Tarind is stupid enough to address the furious Captain Kirk. Jim depresses the side button (comm-ing the Bridge) and says, "Captain Kirk here."

They wait but no response comes.

"Don't worry about that, Jim. Tarind won't talk if we want him to. Besides, he has to know everything we've just said. We're in his mind, for Christ's sake!"

Spock clasps his hands behind his back and makes a partial turn (so that he does not directly address either man). "I fail to understand how Tarind overrided my shields. Vulcans practice the art of shielding from an early age. Perhaps…" The Vulcan does not complete his statement. This alarms McCoy because Spock is rarely hesitant in voicing his opinion. (_Which can only mean…_)

"Spock," McCoy lets his voice gentle, "you are one of the strongest telepaths I know. I wouldn't lie to you. Now, I don't understand much about this ability of Tarind's—I wasn't aware that he had _any_—but he couldn't possibly be more adept than a Vulcan." McCoy can see that he hasn't completely convinced Spock. "He injected a hypospray of God-knows-what into you, and I'll bet you a month's pay that_ that's_ the reason he can manipulate you so easily."

Jim agrees with McCoy.

Spock seems mollified now. "Did you identify the contents of the hypospray, Doctor?"

"No," McCoy says with real regret. "We'd sent it down to the lab for testing, but then—"

"Understood."

"It has to be the same poison. Why it made you vulnerable so quickly this time…"

Jim adds, "I think Tarind couldn't get to Spock after the initial dose. Remember when we got word of Spock's collapse?"

Leonard recalls that moment with a heart-wrench. "Yeah. An ensign reported it and stayed with Spock until we could get him to Sickbay."

"So Tarind didn't have the opportunity to attack Spock right away."

"That's true, Jim. And he was never alone when he was unconscious, so probably anything Tarind did to Spock's mind wasn't very effective from a distance." McCoy comes to a conclusion that makes him cold.

Jim looks grim. "He waited until Spock was alone in his quarters."

McCoy paces in thought. "The concentration of the poison was tapering off after we let him outta Sickbay, Jim. And Tarind couldn't have realized that until too late." McCoy turns to Kirk, sees the same anger he feels in the lines of Jim's body. "We interrupted that attempt and he had to make a second one."

_And Tarind succeeded—_the words hang in the air, unsaid but heavy.

Spock looks to McCoy, wants to know, "Doctor, what was the concentration level in my bloodstream before you were… transported here?"

McCoy cannot lie. "It's not going to matter this time. Spock—" He searches for the professional calm that usually gets him through this kind of conversation. (He can't find it.) "—in matter of hours, you may be brain-dead."

The Vulcan is silent.

Jim steps up to Spock, reaches for him. "Spock—"

Spock says, "This explains the sun."

"What sun?" Jim asks sharply.

"Captain, Doctor, if you please. Come with me."

Jim and Leonard follow Spock to the Bridge. McCoy immediately winces at the alarm whistling from the navigation console. "What in God's name is that?"

Jim looks pale and when McCoy turns in the direction that the Captain faces, looks at the Bridge screen, he goes pale too. There's an enormous sun filling up the screen.

From behind the two Humans, Spock says quite calmly, "Twenty-two minutes and six seconds until termination."

* * *

Spock explains to Captain Kirk that any attempt to correct the ship's course is futile. Kirk will not accept this answer until he personally verifies that Navigation and Helm are nonresponsive to input. Spock now suspects that Tarind's Enterprise is without substance in the areas that Tarind himself does not understand; hence, why Spock can run tests at the Science station but Doctor McCoy cannot find functional equipment in Sickbay.

The Captain and the CMO insist that they are his friends—McCoy refers to himself as Spock's verbal sparring partner (Spock suspects that the doctor is his own personal Human annoyance)—but Spock cannot easily accept that word _friend_. He understands its meaning but not its purpose. When he attempts to penetrate the fortified walls of his memory banks, they do not yield to him, and so Spock must accept these Humans' statements as truth. Somehow, he does not have difficulty believing that they are Kirk and McCoy, Captain and CMO. That Spock is First Officer of the Enterprise—he finds this more implausible than any other truth presented to him.

However, his position matters little on a ship that journeys to the center of a sun and will cease to exist in less than half of an hour.

Spock decides on a course of action. "Lieutenant Tarind wishes to destroy my mind. Tarind may release you both if I give myself willing to his desires."

Kirk and McCoy refuse to see the logic of his suggestion. They argue heatedly—in McCoy's case, with inappropriate name-calling.

"Why should three lives be sacrificed when one will suffice?"

"God dammit, you stupid Vulcan! How can you even suggest such a thing?"

"I'm with Bones, Spock. You can't give up!" The Captain closes the distance between them, stops short of touching Spock. "_I order you_—"

"Captain, with all due respect, your orders are not valid under our present conditions."

Kirk's blood pressure must have increased substantially because his face darkens to a shade of red. Spock is about to suggest a breathing technique when he is interrupted.

_I just don't understand how you three manage to survive around each other, let alone work together._

The voice is back and very amused.

Kirk jumps at the chance to communicate with Tarind. "Lieutenant Tarind, you will release us _now!_"

There is static laughter echoing down at them.

_My apologies, Captain Kirk. I truly had no intention of bringing you into this… ordeal, but you just wouldn't detach yourself from McCoy and I couldn't leave such a threat around my person. I had little choice._

"You had every choice, you sick bastard! When I get my hands on—" Doctor McCoy shouts when he is angry. (Why is Spock not surprised?)

_Ah, McCoy. I won't apologize to you, Doctor. While I have great admiration for your professional work, you are a loud-mouthed nuisance in person. It's a shame that more people don't tell you the truth. Maybe the other crew cow before you but I won't! I am going to take great pleasure in permanently shutting you up. A loss to Medical, surely, but that's all._

Spock does not like the look in McCoy's eyes. "Your assessment is incorrect, Lieutenant. Doctor McCoy… is my friend and the Captain's." The word is not so difficult to acknowledge after all. "His loss would be significant to us both."

Tarind replies, _That's why he's here, Vulcan, so that you comprehend the price of your indifference._

"I do not understand your reference."

_My experiment, you fool! You—_

Tarind cuts off, then, perhaps because he remembers Spock cannot possibly know the _why_ of his current state. Tarind has taken that from Spock—and in essence, deprived himself of a piece of his revenge.

"Not as satisfying, is it?" Kirk speaks before Spock can.

_It doesn't matter now,_ Tarind insists. _As long as Mr. Spock suffers and I win._

McCoy wants to know, "And how do you plan on winning? What do you gain—besides revenge by leaving Spock as a permanent vegetable?"

_I get to study the mind of a telepath. His mind, all of his thoughts and memories, will be mine._

Spock goes very still at this confession. Tarind is not destroying his mental capacity, he is stealing it—siphoning of the last vestiges that make Spock who he is—for data.

And the sun?

Spock turns to the Bridge screen, with clarity. The sun represents Tarind's final stage, the encompassing of one mind into another—and the burning of those last threads that bind Spock's Self to his physical body. (The end of Spock is close now, looming bright red and blazing.)

Perhaps—

Spock approaches the Captain's chair. He says, "You desired that I take this seat." There is silence. "I will do so now." Spock lowers himself into the chair.

"Spock—" McCoy comes up to his left, Kirk to his right. They stand on either side of him.

He opens his hands, palm up, in a silent request. Kirk instantly takes his hand. McCoy hesitates, asks, "Are you sure?" Spock nods. So Doctor McCoy grasps his other hand.

The Enterprise shudders then and the two Humans lean into the sides of the chair to steady themselves.

_What are you doing, Mr. Spock?_

"I am accepting my fate," the Vulcan replies.

* * *

Jim is a myriad of emotions—he's angry (as he has been since the beginning), hopeful when he grips Spock's hand, and very much afraid for them all. Once Spock sits the Captain's chair, Jim seeks reassurance that the Vulcan has a plan (surely he must, right?) but then Spock speaks of accepting his fate. Jim listens closely to the undercurrent of those words, so when Spock turns to him, he picks up on the shimmer in the Vulcan's eyes. (It sends Jim's heart pounding.) He cannot help but say "Spock."

It's Bones who slides his arm against the back of the chair and leans into them both. He is quiet but asking questions with his eyes.

Spock raises their linked hands. "Never and always touching and touched."

McCoy's eyes grow wide but Jim does not understand. Bones whispers "_T'Pring_" at Kirk, and Jim has a sudden vision of Spock facing his Vulcan fiancé on the Bridge repeating those ritual words. (He tries not to follow his memory to the resulting disaster.) Spock raises his eyebrow and repeats the phrase. He looks expectant.

Jim meets Bones' (very blue) eyes and jumps in headfirst. "Never and always touching and touched."

There is a little zing between their pressed palms, and Jim can imagine the startled look that must be on his face. He urges "Bones" then to the doctor, who chews at his lower lip with uncertainty.

Jim almost concludes that McCoy won't go along with the plan (that he himself doesn't understand) when Bones' posture changes just faintly. "Never and always touching and touched." Jim feels sweet relief.

The Enterprise doesn't just shudder after that, it actually wobbles like it's about to tilt off an axis. Spock grips Jim's hand tightly. "Sit down, Captain, Doctor," he says. "Do not let go."

They comply quickly. Jim clutches at the side of the chair and Spock's hand (eyes widening) as the floor starts to buckle around the turbolift and upper consoles. He reaches out across the chair for Bones, and the doctor locks forearms with the Captain.

_Spock!_ The Vulcan's name is cried out in a thousand voices from the crevices that break open in the metal paneling. _SPOCK! YOU ARE MINE!_

"_He's not yours!" _Jim shouts. His words seem swallowed up in the twisting of the Bridge that groans and weeps and screams.

"Jim! Look!"

He is drawn from the terrifying noise to McCoy who is watching the Bridge screen. Jim turns his head, sees what McCoy sees. The Bridge screen is cracking under the heat of the sun—leaks bright white—and alarms shriek of imminent destruction. Spock tells them, "The hull has reached its melting point. Please prepare yourselves."

Jim thinks, _This is it. This is the end of us._

_

* * *

_

**Footnote:**

**_*T'Pring_: from ST TOS S2 episode "Amok Time"; the Vulcan female who was Spock's arranged bondmate since early childhood. **


	6. Part 6

**Part Six**

The Enterprise burns away in a long stream of fire-flecked silver. Three singularities are left untouched, hanging temporarily in the middle of the fiery sun. Unimaginable heat (rage) batters against them but they cannot feel it through the cocoon that holds them safe. They are three separate beings, now One through joint will and acceptance.

Spock holds tightly to these two minds that are pressed against his, and he carefully watches as the tentative bond between them weaves, grows, and strengthens.

Words break free, come to him. _Jim. Leonard. _He repeats them.

Two wonder-filled thoughts answer _Spock_.

Spock focuses on the building threads, pulls them in with the fists of his Self and faces those chains around his memory. They shudder from the first _crack_ of his fists. He hits again, harder, and a chain breaks loose. The rage of the sun is pressing down now and, even as the next chain buckles, their cocoon strains against the force of Tarind's will. Spock knows that they cannot hold out much longer, so he calls out to his two Humans, _Here!_

Spock augments the bond as much as he dares to ease their passage and calls again. Jim and Leonard seek him, come for him.

_Spock? What can we do?_

_Let us help!_

_Here, here_, he continues to call until they reach him and that locked part of his mind.

_Lord, Spock, what is that?_

_That which Tarind took from me. I need your strength._

_How?_ The question is flavored with Jim's resolve.

He shows first Jim and then Leonard how to pull in the strength from their portion of the bond. _Now… strike!_

Together they strike once, twice, three times against it. With each blow, chains snap and, on the final blow, the lock breaks into pieces under the combined power of the Three.

His mind whispers his thanks. The Vulcan's memory opens and floods through him. All those missing fragments, thoughts, and feelings fall into their rightful places, form a whole. Spock, in a brief moment, comprehends his relationship with the Captain and the CMO, realizes that his actions are in perfect synchronization with his instinct. Then he must turn his mind from that sweet insight to the force which demands his attention: Tarind.

_Lieutenant_, he thinks directly at the rage which tries to penetrate the haven of their bond and consume them.

_Spock, you cannot win._

The Vulcan answers, _Your gravest error was bringing us together. For this, I thank you._

_NO! I must have YOUR MIND!_

_You may not take that which is not freely given. _

Spock tells Jim and Leonard to hold onto the bond. He dives into the reserves of his Core, using the (previously) stored rage as fuel to drive deep within; Jim and Leonard flow down with him into the cool deep black that permeates the essence of his Self.

There is awe emanating from Leonard and Jim; Spock answers the inherent question.

_This is the place of power in the Self; I maintain its reserves through the__ Loshirak—the rite of meditation._

They do not fully understand his explanation, but Spock can give no more time to that effort. (Later, and with leisure, he will show them the ways of his people.)

He asks, _Do you accept me?_

Spock feels their affirmation. He opens the bond and allows it to suck in cold power. When it is almost full to bursting, he can feel the Humans' minds crying out at the need to release that which weighs the bond so heavily.

Spock warns them _On my command_; he swings them around, up and out of the Core at a frightening speed.

Tarind is trying to force himself into Spock's mind, beats at the edges until he begins to flow over and down to them. Spock, Jim, and Leonard fly upward to meet their foe. In the instant before contact, Spock cries _Now!_ The power explodes from the bond, slams into Tarind's burning rage. The primal nature of Spock's ancestors rears to forefront, cries in triumphant at this glorious (and terrifying) collision of wills.

The bond strains through the shockwaves, begins to fray. In that moment, before the three minds of the Captain, First Officer, and CMO are engulfed entirely in the battle—and blanketed to unconsciousness—Spock fears that the bond may break. Then the last of his thoughts disappear.

* * *

Leonard comes to with the familiar soft beeping of the medical panel over his head. He vaguely recalls past episodes of awareness—remembers Christine's and M'Benga's voices telling him to relax and sleep.

This time he doesn't want to sleep. He wants to sit up and look for Jim and Spock. The shifting of his weight sends the tattle-tell alarms squealing. Nurses come flying in, with Christine in the lead. When she sees that he hasn't gone into cardiac arrest, his chief nurse puts her hands on her hips and says fiercely, "Just what do you think you're doing, Len?"

McCoy flops onto his back (that little effort tuckered him out). "Tryin' to get up, darlin'." If his response is much too genteel—and laced with grumpiness, Christine ignores that small detail.

"You won't be out of this bed for at least another week, Doctor. So don't even bother _thinking_ about it, understand?"

"I understand that I got a tyrant for a nurse."

"With your record? Extremely necessary."

"Chris, where' s Spock? And Jim?"

"In their own biobeds resting, and I'll thank you not to disturb them."

"How're they?" His eyelids keep falling shut, won't stay open.

Christine leans in, pats his shoulder with knowing eyes. "They're going to be okay, Leonard. So are you. Now just lie back and rest for me."

"_Hmph_." He cannot argue, he's so tired. As McCoy drifts back into welcoming oblivion, he feels a small, strange tug. Doesn't feel a hand or a touch, though… _What could it_—

Christine pulls the blanket up to McCoy's chest, smoothes them out with gentleness. There is relief shining bright in her face. She waves the other medical personnel clogging up the space back to their tasks and proceeds to check on her other two patients.

* * *

Bones isn't released from Sickbay until he swears on the grave of his mother that he will take pain medication for his headaches and allow M'Benga to perform bi-weekly check-ups on him for the next two weeks.

Spock's the one who tacked on the medical examinations—Jim was just grateful to get McCoy to accept treatment. As for Spock, the Vulcan insists that he is doing well, recuperating at a quicker pace than the Doctor due to his unique stamina. It helps too that the Enterprise crew pulled off some minor miracles and swung by the nearest station accommodating a Vulcan healer. (M'Benga called in a few favors from his days on Vulcan.)

Jim often catches Spock conversing with the healer in low tones. They both look serious—though Jim's no judge on most Vulcan expressions. (McCoy says that they're all stoic-faced.) Spock assures the Captain, however, that his mind is recovering properly and that the First Officer can return to duty in another week. Jim, of course, along with McCoy, refuses that sly request. Spock is granted one month's medical leave and commanded by his superior officer to obey without protest.

Bones doesn't fare as well as Jim. There was a period when McCoy's medical team feared the doctor's mind was too weakened by Tarind's original interference to heal from the second assault. McCoy proves them wrong, though, by maintaining his usual mix of Southern irascibility and brilliance—even from a biobed. He does stay in Sickbay the longest, which peeves McCoy to no end (and secretly satisfies the Captain). Spock spends an inordinate amount of time talking to Doctor McCoy as long as the man is bed-bound. Occasionally, when Jim isn't on the Bridge or conked out by a sedative, he interrupts Spock and McCoy in the middle of their great debate over Human versus Vulcan something-or-other. One time or two, he catches them in the throes of companionable silence. (Which warms his heart.)

Jim sighs deeply from the Captain's chair.

"Captain?" Uhura inquires, and he lazily waves off her anxiety.

"At easy, Lieutenant. Just glad to be back on the Bridge." _On a real ship_, he adds silently.

"Yes, Captain." She still keeps one eye on him. Eventually, Jim hopes, she'll give up her sharp vigil. Nevertheless, he admits to a small amount of pleasure over the crew's concern.

A yeoman leans over his shoulder, hands him a PADD. Kirk glances at it, sees the name Tarind and goes very still. He takes his time reading through the document, which details the transfer of Lieutenant Marcus Tarind to a penal colony for the criminally insane. When he signs his name at the end, it's with hard, sharp strokes.

_Good riddance_.

* * *

Spock calls both McCoy and Kirk to his quarters a few days after Tarind is released into Federation penal custody. The crazed scientist's last words, as he was led away by Security, will stay with Kirk for a long time. Tarind laughed at his (former) Captain and said, "I had him; I almost had you _all_. My mind to your mind, Kirk! MY MIND TO YOUR MIND!" Tarind will be feed neural-inhibitors for the rest of his life. (What happens to his experiment data and research, no one knows.)

Spock informs them both that the Vulcan healer will soon take leave of the Enterprise.

"Are you sure that you don't need her, Spock? She can stay as long as necessary." Jim tries to tell the Vulcan in his own way that he wants Spock to take as much time as he needs to heal completely.

"Captain, we both agree that I no longer require assistance. My mind will continue to heal unaided and be fully functional within approximately—"

McCoy says, "Okay, we believe you, Spock. You wouldn't monkey around about your smarts, we all know that."

Spock's eyebrow goes up. "Indeed."

McCoy settles into a chair. Jim tucks his hands behind him to prevent from reaching out to help the doctor. Bones is still sensitive about any perceived sign of weakness.

"You didn't bring us here just for that. What else?" McCoy wants to know.

Spock stands very still, facing them, in his customary pose—hands clasped and black eyes sharp with intelligence. "I wish to discuss the state of the bond." Bones says nothing—nor Jim—so Spock continues. "The bond which I instigated during our… time in Tarind's mind is active." Jim nods; he feels an awareness not just of Spock but also McCoy—and sometimes senses them strongly when he focuses on that awareness. "The assistance of a Vulcan healer is necessary for its removal."

"And she wants to know what we wanna do about it before she goes, right?" Bones drawls too casually in a heavy Southern accent.

"Correct, Doctor. Now is the time that we must break its hold."

"And if we don't?" Jim asks.

"It may remain its current state, or it may strengthen. At present, the outcome is uncertain."

"Can you read my thoughts?" Leonard leans forward as he says this, intent on Spock and his answer.

"Not unless you allow me to do so. I can teach you how to shield your mind, Leonard."

Bones' eyes are narrowed in thought. "And if you or Jim get hurt, Spock, can I feel that?"

"You will know should any… unfortunate condition befall the Captain or myself."

Jim is surprised at the smile spreading across McCoy's face. "Well, I say leave it. I can't think of a better way to keep tabs on both your trouble-making hides."

"Doctor—the bond is—"

"Yeah, yeah. Serious, life-altering. _I know that_, Spock. And while I'm not crazy about the whole 'my thoughts to your thoughts' thing, I can deal with it as long as you keep your word to stay on your side of the fence. 'Kay?"

Spock nods. He addresses Jim. "Captain?"

"Better call me Jim, Spock. We're a little too close now for formality."

"Then you agree with the Doctor?"

"Absolutely." Jim's eyes are bright as they meet Spock's. "Who'd dare _disagree_ with Bones?"

Spock says in a very serious voice (despite his twinkling eyes), "I would."

While Leonard grumbles about two against one and how _that's just plain unfair_, Jim laughs so hard that it brings tears to his eyes. When Spock's amusement leaks through the bond, McCoy and Jim share a thought: _Maybe this is what Spock meant by accepting fate._

_-Fini_

* * *

**WOO! That was so much fun! I seriously adore mind!battles and inherent KSM-goodness. If you enjoyed yourself as well, please share your happiness with the author! :)**

**(If you've got questions/debatable-issues, you can message me on or LJ.)**


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